


Paris. 1793.

by Two_of_Clubs



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Prison Scene, The Bastille scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_of_Clubs/pseuds/Two_of_Clubs
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself locked away inside the Bastille during the French Revolution and Crowley finds himself in a very unique position. Perhaps there's a way to rescue the angel from certain discorporation that satisfies them both. A favor for a favor...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 157





	Paris. 1793.

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to write this out of nowhere after sitting on the idea for weeks because who doesn't like a little historically-themed smut?
> 
> Enjoy!

Aziraphale shook his head in disgust.

“Animals!” he said to no one in particular.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, angel, only humans do that,” a voice said behind him. 

“Crowley!” the angel beamed, turning around to find the demon lounging against one of the brick walls of his cell.

He took one look at the demon, his impish grin, his usual, all-black outfit, which naturally included the pair of tinted spectacles he always wore.  _ Of all the beings in the world, it had to be Crowley.  _ Aziraphale couldn’t play at being more annoyed if he tried.

“Oh,  _ good Lord, _ ” he blessed.

But Crowley ignored him. The angel had stared at him for just a second too long to be truly put-out by the identity of his rescuer. Even so, Aziraphale made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes. He glanced down at the manacles on his wrists and frowned. Crowley watched the angel argue with himself about whether or not to miracle the chains away. He sighed again.

“Problem?” Crowley asked.

It took every ounce of self control the demon had to keep his only-just-hidden smirk concealed. It was a good thing there wasn’t much lighting in the room, or Aziraphale might have been able to see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, even from behind his glasses. Aziraphale gave Crowley a condescending glare that was truly unbecoming of an angel. The look alone made the demon’s skin itch.

“Clearly,” Aziraphale spat. 

Once more, he sighed.

“I got a formal reprimand from Gabriel. Apparently I’ve been using too many ‘frivolous miracles.’”

“What a shame,” Crowley offered.

“I think I’m just going to have to accept the discorporation.”

Crowley dared to steal a glance over the top of his heavily-tinted spectacles, meeting the angel’s eyes. For just a split second, it seemed like an inkling of the roguish glint in Crowley’s eyes was reflected right back at him. Crowley’s curiosity revealed itself slowly, starting with a subtle widening of his eyes and ending with an amused smile.

“You don’t seem overly concerned,” the demon pointed out. 

Aziraphale shrugged.

“There’s no escaping the inevitable I suppose.”

There it was again, that new, unexpected flash of something... _ more _ . Crowley leaned forward, eyeing the angel with equal parts fascination and caution.

“Maybe for most...but not for you, angel.”

Aziraphale gave him an almost innocent look.  _ Almost.  _ Crowley licked his lips, shifting his weight.

“What are you planning?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not planning anything,” Aziraphale replied, matter-of-factly.

The demon narrowed his eyes. The angel wasn’t lying, but there was something else, Crowley could sense it. Aziraphale stepped towards him, going as far as the chains would allow. In the end, they were only a couple paces apart. Crowley furrowed his brows.

“Then what  _ are _ you doing?”

“I believe it’s called ‘making an offer.’”

“An offer?”

“Well yes. No sense in both of us losing something today.”

“Both of us?”

Crowley was beginning to tire of asking questions and the angel looked like he was growing tired of Crowley asking them. He managed yet another dramatic sigh.

“Yes, Crowley. If the French have their way, I lose my head and you lose the best adversary you’ve ever had.”

The demon smirked.

“Best adversary, huh?”

“No more stellar reports to Hell about how you’ve bested me anymore,” Aziraphale continued. “What would you do then?”

Crowley turned his head, looking away.

“I’d think of something,” he answered.

The sound of footsteps began to echo down the corridor. Aziraphale leaned forward, straining slightly against his restraints.

“Then perhaps...there’s something I could offer you?”

There was a sense of urgency in the angel’s voice, and just a hint of  _ suggestion. _ The footsteps grew louder and Crowley turned to look Aziraphale head-on. The angel’s clear blue eyes had taken on a stormy quality in the dim light. Before the demon could stop himself, he snapped his fingers and the footsteps stopped. Everything was perfectly silent. The raging crowds outside may as well have disappeared, the cries of the other prisoners extinguished. Time had stopped. Crowley took a deep breath.

“Go on,” he said in a low voice.

“Perhaps we could work something out,” Aziraphale offered. “Something where we both benefit.”

“Mmmm. So what you’re saying is, I get you out of here and you…”

“Whatever you like.”

Crowley grinned. 

“ _ Whatever  _ I like?”

“There must be something you want,” Aziraphale insisted.

He batted his eyelashes with feigned innocence and smiled knowingly. Only Aziraphale could look so coy and so smug at the same time. 

“Call it a favor,” he added.

The hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stood on end. He shivered involuntarily, but did his best to hide it.  _ There it was, that unusual sensation that had washed over him the moment he appeared before the angel. Lust.  _ The demon did his best to remain suave.

“You should be careful, you know, offering favors to a demon,” Crowley said, getting to his feet.

“And why is that?” Aziraphale inquired.

“We’re known for just  _ taking _ what we want.”

The angel’s lips curved into a rather unangelic smile.

“What if it’s... _ given freely? _ ”

Though Aziraphale couldn’t see it, Crowley’s eyes were blown wide behind his spectacles.

“Are you trying to tempt me, angel?  _ Me?  _ The Serpent of Eden, the symbol of original sin?”

Again, Aziraphale smiled.

“I’m only offering you a  _ favor _ , Crowley.”

The demon felt a warmth blooming in his chest. He licked his lips.

“And if I ask for my  _ favor  _ sooner rather than later? I rather like the notion of paying upfront.”

Crowley inched closer, leaving about a foot of space between them. Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” the angel assured him. “I’m sure there’s  _ plenty _ I could do for you.”

The words ripped through him, leaving a searing heat in their wake. Crowley felt his pulse quicken, his eyes taking in every detail of the cell around them. He stepped forward and Aziraphale stepped back. Crowley eyed him suspiciously.

“Do I have your word?” the angel asked. “A favor for a favor?”

“ _ Yessss,”  _ Crowley hissed in response.

Only then did he dare to touch Aziraphale’s form, gentle at first, a single hand cupping the angel’s cheek. He tilted Aziraphale’s chin upwards and leaned in, pausing when their lips were only a hair’s breadth apart.

“A demon of your word, then,” Aziraphale murmured.

“ _ And an angel of yours.”  _

Crowley surged forward, plunging them into a kiss. Aziraphale kissed him back readily, his chained hands pressing against Crowley’s chest in earnest. The demon felt him take hold of the fabric of his coat, pulling him in closer. Crowley didn’t even realize he’d been moaning into their kiss until they both broke away, gasping for air. Without a word, Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s glasses. The demon saw them go from Aziraphale’s hand to the nearby window ledge in the blink an eye.

“Hardly counts as a miracle if you ask me,” Aziraphale remarked. 

Crowley chuckled. He watched through downcast, hooded eyes as Aziraphale carefully reached for the collar of his shirt. The angel hooked a finger in the neckline of Crowley’s outfit, tugging his black cravat loose. It dropped to the floor carelessly, and then Aziraphale was pulling him in again.

The demon tipped his head back, allowing Aziraphale to explore the skin on his neck. The angel pressed several fervent kisses to the side of Crowley’s neck before capturing the flesh over the center of the demon’s throat in his mouth. Aziraphale was the  _ perfect _ height for it. He sucked lightly at the skin over Crowley’s adam’s apple, not harshly enough to leave a mark, just enough to slowly drive the demon wild. Crowley fisted his hands in Aziraphale’s hair, shifting so he could press their forms together even more firmly. 

He let a shuddering moan escape his lips as the angel continued to lavish attention on his neck. Suddenly, Crowley felt a pressure against the front of his trousers. Aziraphale was pressing his hip into him, steadily driving him mad. Perhaps the most tantalizing part of it all was that nothing Aziraphale did was rough enough to leave a mark. Crowley knew that when they finished, the only signs of what the angel did would be the tremors in Crowley’s legs and in his voice. The demon’s hands slid down Aziraphale’s back so that he could grab at the angel’s sides, pulling their bodies even closer together. 

He felt the angel gasp as he slid a knee between Aziraphale’s legs, and Crowley took the opportunity to lean down and claim his lips in a kiss once more. Stunned, Aziraphale put up no resistance as Crowley grabbed his wrists. The demon broke their kiss just long enough to loop the angel’s chained wrists around his neck, forcing their torsos together. Aziraphale rested his arms on Crowley’s shoulders, the chain trailing along the demon’s back. He felt one of the angel’s hands tangle in his hair as Aziraphale leaned in for another kiss.

Crowley kept his hands on Aziraphale’s hips as he slowly walked the angel backwards, being careful not to walk them into anything. When they were close enough to one of the cold, brick walls, Crowley grew a little more forceful, practically shoving Aziraphale against the wall. He attacked the angel’s lips with another kiss, working his jaw open wide. The demon ran his tongue along Aziraphale’s lower lip before licking into the angel’s mouth. He felt Aziraphale give a muffled cry at that, then attempt to pull Crowley even closer. The demon hummed his approval as the angel allowed their tongues to meet, taking in the taste of him.

Aziraphale tasted like nectar, the very best Heaven had to offer.  _ He was an angel, of course he tasted like nectar.  _ Crowley savored every second, drinking all the angel’s lips had to offer like a man who’s wandered the desert for days and just found water. He moaned into Aziraphale’s mouth, a wordless plea not to stop letting him take what he needed, even if it was Crowley who was supposed to be in charge. His moan changed to a growl as the angel began to press himself a little more firmly against the front of Crowley’s trousers, grinding a hip against the now fairly prominent bulge there.

Crowley sank his teeth into Aziraphale’s lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but it was a near thing. When they drew apart, they remained close, serpentine yellow eyes meeting blue ones. Aziraphale was absolutely breathtaking in the dim light of the Bastille. His downy, white curls were a mess, his red, kiss-swollen lips equally so. Crowley smiled, not a devilish smirk, but a soft, genuine smile as he held the angel close, using the weight of his body to keep him pinned against the wall. He slowly leaned in and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on the angel’s lips.

“You’re  _ beautiful _ , angel,” Crowley muttered against Aziraphale’s lips. “How did you know I’d wanted this for so long?”

The angel smiled at him, returning Crowley’s soft kiss with one of his own.

“Darling, I’ve known for  _ decades, _ ” Aziraphale replied. 

“Then why have you waited? Why make me guess this whole time?”

Aziraphale nuzzled against his cheek, then tilted his head up slightly.

“More fun this way,” he whispered against Crowley’s ear.

The demon pulled away and they locked eyes once more. Crowley felt himself wanting to say more, but Aziraphale cut him off.

“But this isn’t enough, is it?” the angel mused.

“Aziraphale—”

“There’s something else you’ve wanted to see me do for a while now, isn’t there?”

Crowley’s guilty lips could barely form the right words, but luckily Aziraphale seemed to understand perfectly. Without a word or a moment’s hesitation, the angel lifted his wrists from around Crowley’s neck and moved so that the demon now had his back against the wall. Aziraphale leaned in to kiss and suck at Crowley’s neck again and Crowley let him. He allowed Aziraphale’s manacled hands to trail down the front of his shirt until they reached the waistband of his trousers. He felt the angel’s lips at the top of his left collarbone when he heard a snap of fingers. 

Cool air surrounded Crowley’s entire lower body as he suddenly found himself completely naked from the waist down. He felt air against his chest and stomach, his shirt now unbuttoned and pushed open. Crowley glanced down nervously, his unguarded eyes giving away his shock. Aziraphale ran a hand down the front of Crowley’s torso, then pressed a hand to the front of his right hip.

“Let me guess,” Crowley managed, “hardly counts as a miracle?”

“No, I’m afraid that one was,” the angel breathed against Crowley’s neck. “But worth it, I think.”

Without offering any kind of notice, Aziraphale suddenly wrapped his hand around the base of Crowley’s cock. The demon bit back a cry as the angel ran his hand along the length of him experimentally. Being mindful of the chains, Aziraphale repeated the process until Crowley’s cock was standing proudly at attention. Then, steadying himself against Crowley’s hip briefly, Aziraphale knelt in front of the demon, his chained hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. Crowley took one glance at him and a warm blush covered his cheeks.

“Satan have mercy,” he hissed.

But Aziraphale made no clever reply to that, no witty retort that would make Crowley’s rather undemonic blush deepen. Instead, he simply leaned forward and took the head of Crowley’s cock into his mouth. The demon spat out a curse as his hands scrabbled at the wall behind him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pitch forward, closer to the heat and pressure of the angel’s mouth, or fall backwards against the safety of the wall. Crowley let out a strangled moan as Aziraphale’s lips slid further down the shaft of his cock, enveloping more and more of him in pleasurable heat. Soon enough, the angel had taken in all of him, his lips sealed around the base of Crowley’s cock. 

Just when the demon didn’t think he could stand anything more, Aziraphale began to move. Slowly at first, giving Crowley little time to adjust to the sensation before picking up speed. The angel’s tongue laved at the underside of his cock, and his lips squeezed just a little more firmly each time they reached the tip. Crowley cried out, filling the expansive halls of the Bastille with his moans. At some point, he realized that he was rambling, praising Aziraphale, telling him how gorgeous he looked like this, kneeling like a saint before him while doing the most sinful thing an angel could do. He begged him not to stop and to please, please— _ please angel, please _ —not let this be the only time they do this.

Crowley tangled a fist in Aziraphale’s hair, his fingers tugging at the angel’s curls. He heard the gentle clanking of Aziraphale’s restraints, but it didn’t even register, not until he felt a warm hand slide along the inside of his thigh, slowly making its way upwards. Another moment and warm fingers were grabbing at his arse, holding him firmly in place. Crowley stood, back against the wall, hips caught between Aziraphale’s mouth and hands.

“ _ Angel!”  _ he cried, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the immense pleasure of it all.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, not alone. Wordlessly, Crowley tugged at Aziraphale, urging him to stop. Confused, the angel ceased his ministrations and looked up at the demon expectantly. The only explanation Crowley gave was a snap of his fingers. Aziraphale glanced down to find himself entirely bare, save for the chains on his wrists. 

“Lie down,” Crowley instructed him, his voice a bit husky.

Aziraphale did as he was told, even if that meant laying down on the floor. A pile of hay had miracled itself beneath the angel, and frankly, Crowley didn’t give a damn which one of them had done it. He lowered himself onto the ground, hovering just over the angel. 

“Hands above your head,” he growled.

Again, Aziraphale did as Crowley told him. The demon laid himself atop Aziraphale, kissing the angel’s lips hungrily. The heat of skin on skin was both too much and not enough all at once. When he broke away panting several moments later, Aziraphale was looking at him with concern.

“Crowley?”

“I can’t do it,” the demon explained. “I can’t take it, not by myself.”

He pressed another desperate kiss to his angel’s lips.

“I need you to share this with me.  _ Please, angel. _ ”

“ _ Oh, Crowley. _ ”

The demon felt Aziraphale wrap his legs around his middle, inviting Crowley to do as he wanted. Crowley slipped a hand between their bodies, navigating the expanses of Aziraphale’s smooth skin with nothing but his sense of touch until he found what he was looking for. He wrapped his fingers—miraculously slick—firmly around the angel’s cock, which was already leaking precome despite never having been touched. Crowley wasted no time, setting a brutal pace as he pistoned his hand around the length of Aziraphale’s cock.

“Ah! Crowley!” the angel cried, his back arching off the ground.

Crowley was unrelenting. He buried his face in the side of Aziraphale’s neck, murmuring little confessions of love with each breath he took. Every moan and whimper that escaped Aziraphale’s lips went straight to Crowley’s cock. He didn’t know if it was possible, but Crowley thought he could come just from that, the beautiful sounds the angel was making, the way he gasped the demon’s name over and over again like a prayer.

_ Crowley...Crowley...Crowley… _

“Crowley!” a voice called.

Crowley’s eyes shot wide open, then quickly narrowed in suspicion.  _ What was going on? _

“Crowley, please!”

He felt someone shaking his shoulder.

“Crowley, wake up!” Aziraphale urged. 

The demon slowly rolled over onto his back and blinked at the angel who was sitting in bed next to him. The dim light coming in through the window suggested that it was morning, though Crowley couldn’t say exactly what time. Aziraphale’s pillows were still propped against the headboard and a thick novel was sitting in the angel’s lap, which meant that he had spent the entire night reading. Again. Finally, the gears in Crowley’s head started to turn. 

“A dream,” he mused out loud.

“Yes Crowley, you were just dreaming,” Aziraphale assured him. “But you were making so much noise, I thought you must be having a nightmare! You wouldn’t lay still either, you kept moving.”

Suddenly, Aziraphale’s eyes drifted down, away from Crowley’s face. The angel tried and failed to suppress a small smile. 

“Although...It seems I don’t have a reason to worry, given the circumstances.”

Crowley followed the angel’s gaze. ‘The circumstances’ happened to be that Crowley was pitching a tent in their sheets. Quite a noticeable one at that. Aziraphale placed his book on the nightstand next to the bed and laid down beside Crowley. He brushed a few stray pieces of hair away from the demon’s face, then kissed Crowley’s temple. 

“Just  _ what _ were you dreaming about, my dear boy?” he asked quietly.

Crowley felt a small blush making its way across his cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears.

“ _ You...Us, _ ” he admitted. 

“Hmmm...What about us?”

“P-Paris. 1793.”

The angel raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just a little fantasy,” Crowley explained.

Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley beneath the covers, pulling him in for one of the best ‘good morning’ kisses Crowley could remember sharing. In an instant, Aziraphale rolled them over so that Crowley was on top of him, their bodies falling flush together. The angel reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Crowley’s ear.

“Tell me about this little fantasy of yours,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley’s lips quirked into a sly grin.

“Perhaps...I’d better  _ show  _ you,” the demon whispered back.

Then Aziraphale drew him in for another kiss, and Crowley snapped his fingers…

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm awful. But hopefully the sweet ending made up for it!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was something I hadn't tried before, but I have to say it was pretty fun. Maybe I'll try another historically-themed piece. And give it a real ending.


End file.
